


Secondhand

by kettish



Series: Secondhand [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 06:33:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16656040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kettish/pseuds/kettish
Summary: Secondhand, the fic I tried to sell and couldn't so reposted.





	Secondhand

Later, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan would agree that it wouldn’t have happened if they’d been a little less exhausted. The signs were all there--literally, although Obi-Wan would claim he thought the handcuff symbols on the advertisements with directional arrows were for a police force convention. They’d been to many, many worlds, with many, many different symbols for law enforcement, and the one thing that had been constant had been handcuffs or binders of some kind.

Qui-Gon, who had expended most of his energy for the day helping iron out a treaty between planetary governments over mining rights for an asteroid field that separated the two worlds, hadn’t even noticed that much. They retired early in the afternoon, having arrived from the Temple and in deference to jet lag, and ordered room service for once instead of venturing out to gauge local sentiment.

Obi-Wan flipped through holonet channels idly instead and commented to Qui-Gon occasionally when he saw something of interest. The popular children’s toy of the season was an animatronic version of a children’s holo character, their vehicles tended towards compact and light since their world was exceedingly flat, and there were sexual aids advertised on occasion. A consumerist society with a tendency towards practicality in their tools and were culturally liberal, if the devices advertised were used by the kind of combinations in the ad. 

“That will make things a bit easier,” Obi-Wan said, watching a weather forecast. “They already sounded more willing to share. I believe they just wanted someone to ensure their agreement was sound.”

“Mm,” Qui-Gon agreed distantly, shifting in his seat to a more comfortable position. He was flipping through the information they hadn’t had time to cover today in preparation for their meeting tomorrow; Obi-Wan had already done so on the transport back to their accommodations, but Qui-Gon had always battled motion sickness if he tried to read or do fine work on planetside vehicles, so he had waited.

It would be an easy mission. Dinner arrived and Obi-Wan brought it inside gratefully, stomach rumbling as he smelled roast tubers, leafy greens cooked with bits of salted meat, and chunks of roasted nerf. He took the plates carefully and set one by Qui-Gon, within reach but out of the way of his ‘pad before wandering back over to the couch and sitting down hard with an exhausted oof. 

Dinner was easy and quiet, the silence between them as comfortable as it’d ever been and familiar from at least a dozen shared missions. Master and former apprentice had slid into place as mission partners with a near-audible click once Obi-Wan had been Knighted. However Obi-Wan had often felt an undercurrent of...something running underneath their interactions since they’d settled in to working with one another as equal partners. 

Having waited half a decade, Obi-Wan was content to savor their current relationship and wait patiently for Qui-Gon to make up his mind on what potential they might share. If they ever made their pair bond into something more, he’d welcome it. And in the meantime this part of his life was worth experiencing without constantly striving towards something beyond what he already had.

He drowsed between wide, well-fluffed cushions, eyes shut contentedly and holding a cup of warm tea between his hands as he waited. They discussed issued documents after they’d both read them through as a matter of routine, which sometimes led to downtime like this, but Obi-Wan was enjoying the silence.

Rather, the near silence. Qui-Gon huffed and shifted forward and then back in his seat for the third time in as many minutes. The rustling of his uniform was crisp in the otherwise-silent room. Obi-Wan cracked open an eye and looked at him.

Qui-Gon didn’t look back, but Obi-Wan could tell through long association that he felt his gaze and was ignoring him. Obi-Wan snorted faintly and let his eye slide shut again, zoning out and enjoying the positive potential he could feel in the near future concerning their mission. It would go smoothly, he thought, as long as--

Shuffle, shuffle. Rustle. An agitated noise this time, and Qui-Gon pushed away from the desk.

“My mind wanders,” he grunted by way of explanation, pulling his plate over and setting it on his knees to eat so the ‘pad would be in no danger. He tucked in, eating efficiently as a soldier (as nearly all mission-rotated Jedi did) and after he was done boiled water for his tea. Obi-Wan tracked his footsteps across the floor, then his brisk movements pulling out cup, tea, and kettle, and finally listened as Qui-Gon tapped a finger against the countertop impatiently as he waited for his drink to steep.

He opened both eyes this time, head still relaxed against the back of the cushions, and his brow drew in to pinch with concern. 

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked. Qui-Gon stilled, and the tapping stopped instantly.

“Just tired, I expect,” he replied, pulling the tea bag out and letting the last few drops empty into the cup as he always did. Ever observant where his former master was concerned, Obi-Wan noted that he’d under-steeped it by a solid minute.

“Maybe you ought to go rest, then, and we can take it up again in the morning instead,” he suggested. Qui-Gon treated him to a blank stare that meant he was definitely not going to do any such thing, and Obi-Wan sighed. Qui-Gon could be such a stickler for this sort of thing.

“Alright,” he ceded, closing his eyes again to signal acceptance of his defeat. Qui-Gon huffed again, taking himself and his tea back to the desk and sitting down. Obi-Wan tactfully didn’t say a thing when Qui-Gon tasted his tea, and Qui-Gon admitted nothing.

He would have chalked the whole exchange up to being tired, as suggested, except that now Qui-Gon was fidgeting even more! Obi-Wan tried drifting back into the currents of the future as the Force told it to him, but kept getting distracted and nudged back into himself by little movements, shuffles, or small noises. 

Qui-Gon slammed the ‘pad down suddenly and Obi-Wan nearly jumped out of his skin, eyes flying wide open to stare at him, perplexed.

“What in the name of the Force--” he began. The older man stalked out of the room and into the ‘fresher, moving stiffly as though injured, and Obi-Wan felt concern ignite into alarm as the door slammed shut. Long minutes dragged by with no sound forthcoming; the ‘fresher door was soundproofed, as on many planets, and he had no idea what was happening inside. He waited only because he hadn’t heard the lock engage, and Qui-Gon had the nasty habit of locking him out of the room if he was going to be sick. (Yes, it was embarrassing. But it would be worse to drown in your own emitis because you were too stubborn to let someone make sure you didn’t pass out face down in the toilet bowl.)

The door slammed back open again, and Qui-Gon stalked back out again with his face red.

“I have been drugged,” Qui-Gon snarled, and Obi-Wan’s mouth snapped back shut. Qui-Gon visibly drew on his self-discipline and breathed out his upset as Obi-Wan waited.

“Symptoms?” he asked after it became clear Qui-Gon was offering nothing more. In cases such as this it was standard procedure to describe symptoms and progression so that healers would have a better understanding of what they were dealing with, and it was strange of Qui-Gon to be reticent when time was a factor.

“Difficulty focusing. Sensitisation of the skin. Heightened temperature,” he said, short. Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed at him.

“All possible symptoms of spacer’s flu, Qui-Gon.” Qui-Gon’s blank stare morphed into a glower, but the bridge of his nose pinked slightly, subtle against the olive of his sun-darkened skin (courtesy of a desert canyon run two missions back). (Obi-Wan had not darkened. Obi-Wan had just burned, and then peeled, leaving a galaxy of freckles in its wake.) Qui-Gon muttered something, syllables too hurried to be clear, or perhaps Obi-Wan just hadn’t expected this of all things.

“I’m sorry?” 

“Arousal,” Qui-Gon gritted. Obi-Wan bit his tongue, trying to keep a disbelieving bark of laughter behind his teeth; the older man was probably pulling metaphorical teeth out of himself to admit this, and it wouldn’t help if Obi-Wan seemed amused.

“I’m assuming you mean sexual arousal,” Obi-Wan managed to get out, trying to buy time to get his response under control. Qui-Gon treated him to an angry, disbelieving look, and Obi-Wan cleared his throat. “Right.”

“Our reservations here were not a secret,” Qui-Gon snapped. Now that Obi-Wan knew to look he could see how Qui-Gon’s tunics were draped in a manner all Temple residents with masculine bodies were familiar with, and once again he struggled to keep his amusement under control. Reminding himself that just because this was a symptom didn’t mean it was the most significant one helped immensely in that regard.

“I’ll go down and check with the kitchen,” he said, pulling his robe on and heading to the door. “Keep your comm with you, please, in case we need to call for extraction.” 

Qui-Gon slunk into the sleeping area with a grunt of acknowledgement, and Obi-Wan resigned himself to being the recipient of his partner’s ill temper for the rest of the evening, though not without good reason.

Down the back stairs following the path of the service person he went, and he tracked down the young man who had delivered their food and asked him if anyone had stopped him on their way. Receiving a negative response that rang with the truth through the Force, he continued down to the kitchens and inspected the programming there, finding no alterations that could be traced. After that, he spoke with the cooking droids and their overseer, who also hadn’t seen anything unusual, and finally he went back up the front staircase of the building to see the management, intent on discovering the source of his beloved’s illness. (Something he had reminded himself of many times was this: just because Qui-Gon didn’t know, didn’t mean Obi-Wan didn’t love him still, and so in the privacy of his own thoughts he would still think of him with affection.)

Once he entered the main lobby, he saw a group of four humans come in together, and had to stop and process. One carried a large duffel with sticks and straps peeking out the top, and another had a rolling piece of luggage that they had partially unzipped to better fit a...some sort of shock baton, unless Obi-Wan had finally lost his marbles. And all of that alone might have fit with his earlier conclusion regarding the sign in the lobby, if it hadn’t been for the fact that they were dressed in head to toe black, mostly leather and latex, metal studs, harnesses and cuffs and oh sweet Force, he realized, this is not a police force convention; that’s some sort of giant sex toy.

Probably because of the influx of, ah, participants, Obi-Wan couldn’t locate the manager of the hotel, and after a half hour of searching the general feeling of the gathering was beginning to get under his skin. He passed a demonstration where a male was tied down to a bench and a person of indeterminate gender was teaching those gathered the proper use of a single-tail whip, and Obi-Wan averted his eyes when he noticed the thin leggings the recipient was wearing left his erection prominently visible. Obi-Wan itched, and the sensation from the room intensified as time went on to the point where it felt like an electric current under his skin that managed to connect and pull against his cock, which in a flagrant display of rebellion, filled and stood so that he had to pull the extra material of his tunics forward to hide his erection as his tabards weren’t quite up to the job.

He had just done so, relieved that nobody seemed intent to speak to him or had noticed the reason he’d had to adjust his clothing, when he put two and two together and realized that what was happening to his partner wasn’t poison. He struggled to shift his focus to less well-worn paths and reached out to taste the Living Force, and flinched as he was slammed with the full force of the combined desire and pleasure of those in attendance.

Qui-Gon Jinn was widely regarded as one of the best Jedi in the order in terms of sensitivity to the Living Force, and right now it was swamped with sexual energy.

Sithspit, he thought, stymied. This would be no easy fix--their accommodations would be completely booked, based on how many people were in attendance, and there had been few places to stay near where the negotiations were taking place. His frustration and bewilderment must have traveled through the pair bond because he felt Qui-Gon send wordless questioning. 

I found the issue, he sent back. Coming back to the room now. It’s not poison. He tried to send confident reassurance along with it and started winding his way back out through leather and chains and far, far more skin than he was generally comfortable with. Once in a quieter area, he commed the other two hotels near enough to the negotiations, and was informed they too were booked.

How could he help Qui-Gon handle this? Now that he understood the true nature of the problem his libido weighed in, and his imagination ran away with him, offering up thoughts of his tall, well-muscled former master in leather, begging, ecstatic for what Obi-Wan could give him. He dismissed that thought with a sigh, shaking it off regretfully. Qui-Gon would be upset; he did not like losing control of himself. More likely than anything Obi-Wan would be in for an evening of snappy distemper or solitude as Qui-Gon turned in for an early evening and tried to sleep through the entire undignified affair.

Still. If only...Obi-Wan considered trying to offer himself, should Qui-Gon’s need be too great and if, perhaps, Qui-Gon gave him any sign it might be welcome…he tried to imagine his usually staid and stately partner strung out on hundreds of beings’ desire. Would he beg, truly? Would he want to be inside Obi-Wan, or would he want Obi-Wan inside of him? Was that even something he enjoyed, or would they spend the evening using hands and mouths and everything else they could manage to sate him? Obi-Wan had to redirect his thoughts as he realized walking was becoming very uncomfortable, and he took deep breaths, trying to bring himself back to an even keel. 

But what if, then, Qui-Gon assumed he meant only for the evening or until the crisis had passed?

Obi-Wan needed no further assistance dousing his desire. It would be the worst torment, if he was allowed to touch once but then never again. He’d bear it quietly, if that was what it came down to, and shove his heartbreak down even further than his love had ever dwelt, but it would hurt terribly, and he wouldn’t lie to himself about it.

He reached their room and stood outside it, still undecided. He worried that if he didn’t decide now, and Qui-Gon turned out to be open to the idea, he’d freeze, and the moment would pass, never to be repeated again. But was it worth the risk? 

Obi-Wan weighed the futures open to him. Qui-Gon tugged irritably on their pair bond when ten minutes had passed, probably wondering what he was doing standing outside the door like an idiot, and Obi-Wan drew a final breath, decision finally made. He’d been patient for this long in his life. There was no reason to rush ahead now, and possibly turn Qui-Gon off the idea entirely. He palmed the door open and went inside casually, hanging his robes and shucking his boots off to stand by the door with Qui-Gon’s. 

“What were you doing out there?” Qui-Gon asked impatiently. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. 

“That’s rather much, considering you’re in here doing handstands,” he replied, and ignored Qui-Gon’s snort from where he was head-down, with his feet against the wall. It was more a huff, anyway--he must have been upside down for a while, if it was making him short of breath. “Trying to get the blood flowing back in a more decent direction, I take it?”

“Trying,” Qui-Gon bit out irritably, before sighing and slowly lowering himself to the ground to sitting, and then further so that he was slumped over his lap in a sulk. “So tell me, oh Knight, what is this, if not chemical?”

“There’s a convention downstairs,” Obi-Wan said. Qui-Gon looked unimpressed, and Obi-Wan finished dramatically, “a convention for those who enjoy alternative sex practices.” 

Qui-Gon’s face went an alarmingly pale shade, considering he’d just been cherry red from being upside down.

“A what?” he gasped.

“A sex convention,” Obi-Wan explained helpfully. “Leather. Impact objects. Live demonstrations.” Qui-Gon’s eyes glazed slightly, and then focused intently on Obi-Wan again. Obi-Wan shook his head.

“There are hundreds of people down there, Qui-Gon,” he said regretfully. “There aren’t rooms available anywhere else; I called ahead. At least we know you aren’t in actual danger, now.” 

Qui-Gon stared at him for a long time, and Obi-Wan decided to go make tea. He edged along to the kitchen and started the water boiling, and heard Qui-Gon get up off the floor and follow him.

“You’re joking. This is a very bad joke, Obi-Wan.” Obi-Wan gave him a withering look.

“My sense of humor does not include sexual assault,” he retorted, wiping his mug from earlier clean and then pouring water into their cups over the tea bags. Qui-Gon looked bewildered, which was extremely amusing considering he was also still very erect, and Obi-Wan suddenly frowned. “How long has it been anyway?”

“Not that long,” Qui-Gon said heatedly, and then realized he’d misunderstood. He flushed. “An hour or so,” he muttered, and reached for his tea. Obi-Wan lightly tapped his hand with a spoon.

“You didn’t enjoy it under-steeped earlier, I doubt you will now,” he said smartly, and Qui-Gon’s shoulders slumped. 

“I don’t like this,” he finally said, and Obi-Wan heard the plaintive note in his words. It made his heart melt just a bit, and he wished (not for the first time) that he could gather Qui-Gon into his arms and kiss him to help him feel better. 

“It’ll be all right,” he reassured, taking the tea bags out and gently pressing them against his spoon to extract the last few drops. He made Qui-Gon’s tea as he liked it when he was in need of comfort, with the smallest bit of honey and a similarly small amount of milk, and pressed it into those large hands in lieu of what he wanted to do. “It’ll just be for the evening. The convention date was listed for today only, and there’s another event tomorrow evening that’s completely nonsexual; I checked. They’ll have cleared out by morning.”

“It’s still uncomfortable!” Qui-Gon protested, and Obi-Wan found his resolution to not offer his assistance being sorely tested. 

“I was a teenager less than 30 years ago,” he replied wryly, “I’m quite aware of how uncomfortable it is. Just do as you did back then and you’ll make it through.” Qui-Gon frowned mightily but sank down into the couch to drink his tea, apparently determined to enjoy it before doing anything else. Obi-Wan suspected it was his way of maintaining a small amount of control over the situation. 

“I’ll just go visit the ‘fresher then, shall I?” Qui-Gon said when he was done, and exited, sloughing off his outer tunic as he went. Obi-Wan allowed himself to consider the implications of that statement and listened for the lock to engage before he bolted for the sleeping area. Honestly, it was too much, it just was--he kicked off his boots and then shoved his leggings down around his thighs, yanking up his tunics and thanking the Force for sound-proofed ‘fresher doors as he closed his hand around his cock. 

He touched himself in firm, thorough strokes as the thought of Qui-Gon doing exactly this in the other room at exactly the same time ran through his head. He’d be trying to get himself off quickly, Obi-Wan bet, annoyed at the need for it and embarrassed that Obi-Wan would know what he was doing. Obi-Wan shuddered, recalling vividly how well-endowed his partner was; they’d been working together for almost fifteen years; it was inevitable that they knew each other’s bodies by sight. He couldn’t remember ever seeing his master erect, but the tent in his trousers earlier had been sizeable, and Obi-Wan hungered.

Belatedly he tamped down on their pair bond, slowing the steady stream of exchange between them to a trickle to keep this from getting through. Thankfully, Qui-Gon seemed to have already done so on his send, and Obi-Wan turned his attention back to the business at hand-- mainly, what was in his hand. 

Keeping up the attention to his cock, he tucked his opened tunics back behind him and pinned them between his back and the wall, then traveled well-known territories with his free hand. He massaged his pecs, enjoying the way tension relaxed into pleasure, then pinched his nipple gently, then again harder. He groaned, fucking into his hand faster, and repeated the action a few times until the fresh edge was off the sensation and his nipples throbbed pleasantly. He swept his hand down to card through the hair at his groin, shivering pleasantly as he scratched, and then underneath to cradle and tug gently at his balls. He ran his palm over the underside of them and continued up to the crease of his thigh, imagining other hands on him, and gripped at his hip, thinking Qui-Gon might like to hold him there as he jerked him off. 

The thought set off his orgasm, lighting up his nerves, and he cupped his hand under the head of his cock to catch his semen before it could dirty his leggings or the floor.

He panted as he leaned against the wall, head falling back to relax. His shirt was damp with sweat along his spine, and he realized with dismay that he hadn’t thought to bring a tissue or cloth with him, and Qui-Gon was in the only ‘fresher.

Sithspit! he thought meaningfully for the second time that day. He couldn’t hear anything beyond the door, but that didn’t mean much--the ‘fresher was the only door that was soundproofed, but the doors were still thick, so maybe Qui-Gon wasn’t out there, or maybe he was sitting quietly on the sofa. He reached out with the Force and sighed in relief when he pinpointed Qui-Gon inside the ‘fresher still, and so he hastily pulled his leggings up best as he could one-handed and resigned himself to having a damp spot in his linens. 

Now came the part that would be difficult, and he hesitated. He’d have to make it to the kitchen sink to dispose of the...evidence…, and then he’d have both hands free to pull his tunics back together. Or...he eyed his handful narrowly for a moment, then shook his head; there was only so far he was willing to go to avoid embarrassment. Steeling himself, he palmed the door pad to open and then walked quickly (nothing to see here) to the sink and washed his hands.

He was just finishing tucking his sash back into itself as the ‘fresher door opened, and he thanked his lucky stars that he couldn’t be seen where he stood from there. As it was he pretended to make another cup of tea, rooting through the fridge innocently for a snack. 

Obi-Wan didn’t anticipate Qui-Gon going straight to the bedroom from the ‘fresher. Perhaps he should have used a different area or abstained; he was sure that the scent lingered. Well, nothing to be done about it now. Qui-Gon might be distracted enough not to notice, especially if he’d just had a similarly productive session.

If so, good. If not, he could gauge Qui-Gon’s reaction. If he was uncomfortable Obi-Wan could claim it was a reaction to everything he’d seen at the convention and the way sexual energy permeated the area. Obi-Wan refused to think about what he’d do if Qui-Gon showed interest; he’d just jerked off, but his interest in Qui-Gon was potent enough to inspire his dick in almost any situation. He really didn’t need another erection.

There was still silence along their pair bond, and eventually Obi-Wan decided Qui-Gon must have gone to sleep. He actually did make himself a cup of tea and drank it slowly. Then, since it was rather late, he scrubbed himself in the sonic efficiently before changing into clean linens and a sleeping shirt and slipping quietly into bed.

He should have realized something was off right then and there, but he fell asleep instead. It had been a long day, they’d been tired before all this extra nonsense began, and he’d been through a lot more emotionally in a day than he was accustomed. The orgasm hadn’t hurt either, he noted as he drifted off in the quiet.

Qui-Gon was not a quiet sleeper.

 

Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn lay curled up in bed, back to his partner and former padawan and far-too-attractive temptation, and wondered what he’d done to deserve this kind of scheduling snafu.

The Temple workers who were in charge of sorting out accommodations, credits, transportation and the like were usually very thorough with him for exactly this reason. Jedi like Obi-Wan, who were more in tune with the Unifying Force, were less susceptible by far to this kind of influence, although more commonly the scheduling people were looking out for things like rampant pollution, violence, etc., and tried to find him a place to rest that had greenery nearby. It was highly unusual that they’d miss a convention like this scheduled two floors below their room.

He sighed, feeling his cock throb in his pants uncomfortably, and tried to forgive them. It may have been a mistake, or perhaps the convention hadn’t been listed for privacy reasons, or very possibly it may just have been the last room available within reasonable traveling distance. Qui-Gon muttered dire things in his head about governments that needed an isolated location to work on something as simple as a this treaty, when honestly a ship just outside of the asteroid field in question would have worked just as well.

He wasn’t going to get any sleep, that was for sure. Getting himself off earlier in the evening hadn’t helped, which was a minor miracle at his age--the intensity of the sensation running under his skin had ebbed low for a short time, and then come roaring back, and had continued to increase in strength as the night went by. Desire was still rampant and foremost in his mind was a need for skin contact, which was obviously not going to happen. It was now nearly first hour in the morning, and he’d had no sleep, and he was tired, Force take it! He didn’t want to have sex, he wanted to sleep. 

Obi-Wan was sleeping peacefully, he noted. The soft almost-snores that escaped him marked how exhausted he’d been; usually he was a silent sleeper. He supposed it was good that at least one of them would be rested, but despite a lifetime of mental discipline he was having difficulty letting go of his envy. Obi-Wan shifted, rolling towards Qui-Gon in sleepy movements, and then settled into silence. Qui-Gon shifted his hips back, trying to keep pressure off his groin, and the next moment craved the contact and pushed his hips forward again before forcing himself still. He let out a tiny groan of irritation at the whole affair.

Maybe if he could orgasm again, it’d settle enough for his exhaustion to send him to sleep anyway. His dick was starting to get very sore, and hopefully it’d deflate enough to keep damage from occurring...he pushed the palm of his hand against it, rubbing himself slowly through his pants so as to not wake Obi-Wan. He should have gotten up and gone to the ‘fresher for this, but even though he wasn’t touching Obi-Wan his presence nearby was a comfort, a balm to the skin hunger, and he couldn’t make himself leave.

Obi-Wan shifted again minutely, sighing as though he might wake. It was the most difficult thing he’d done in decades to still his hands, but Qui-Gon couldn’t make himself stop quickly enough, and a sleepy grunt told him he’d managed to wake Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon froze. Obi-Wan sat up, squinting around sleepily before looking down at Qui-Gon, and too late he felt him use the Force to reach out and gauge Qui-Gon’s well-being. Ice gripped Qui-Gon’s heart with shame and self-loathing.

“Fuck’s sake, Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan mumbled, and while his voice was fond, tired, and exasperated, there was no disgust or recrimination in his tone. Qui-Gon felt part of his heart thaw, and it melted completely when Obi-Wan laid back down pressed against his back. There was a tentative kiss pressed softly against his shoulder blade, and Qui-Gon couldn’t help the full-body shiver that ran down his spine in sparks. He realized he was harder than he’d ever been in his life. 

“Let me help you,” Obi-Wan said quietly. He hesitated, but then continued, pushing out the reluctant words. “If you change your mind tomorrow, we’ll handle it. However you want. I can request reassignment, or we can never speak of it again, but you’re hurting, Qui. I can’t bear it.” Qui-Gon began to tremble finely, and strangled a needful whine before it could fully escape; Obi-Wan’s arms tightened around his waist, simultaneously exciting and a comfort.

“You don’t mind?” Qui-Gon croaked, uncertain. He’d hate himself in the morning if he hurt anyone this way, but with Obi-Wan it would be an especially sharp pain. A huff of laughter warmed his back.

“I really, really don’t,” Obi-Wan said, and ground his groin up against Qui-Gon’s ass to prove it. He was half hard just talking about it, and it felt delicious. Qui-Gon squirmed, reflexively pushing back before he could get a grip on himself, but that was it: that was the absolute limit of what he could handle, and before he knew what was doing he was arching back hard against Obi-Wan’s erection and grinding against the heel of his own hand with a cry. Obi-Wan swore reverently and reached down to push his sleep pants down and then Qui-Gon’s as well. 

They moved against each other, urgently plastered back-to-chest, until Qui-Gon ripped the blanket off of them and rolled over to pull Obi-Wan into a wet, messy kiss, keening helplessly as he pressed their cocks together. His orgasm overcame him shockingly fast. It stole his breath and he bent forward, groaning, his forehead against Obi-Wan’s as he spilled out onto his partner's skin.

Obi-Wan stroked his hair back from his face and crooned soft nonsense words to him as Qui-Gon panted and came down from his peak. Oh, he had missed this--it had been years since he’d had a romantic partner, and he’d often regretted it late at night when he wanted for skin-on-skin contact. This was relaxed and soft, loving and safe. He brought his hands up from where they’d gripped Obi-Wan’s shirt to slide up the sleep-warm muscle of his back. Obi-Wan’s breath hitched, and he repeated the gesture, soothing and reassuring as he could be while still somehow aroused (though thankfully not erect, for the moment). 

“Why are they not all in bed already?” he muttered, and felt Obi-Wan’s chest shake.

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Obi-Wan asked, and Qui-Gon poked his side right where he knew he was ticklish in revenge. Obi-Wan jerked away from him with a shriek and pulled himself back across the bed. “Don’t you dare, Qui-Gon--!” He yanked his sleep shorts back up over his now-wilting erection and grabbed a pillow, clearly aiming to defend himself. 

“Can’t I get a little romance without your terrible jokes?” Qui-Gon complained, and they both stopped to consider, looking at one another.

“That could be arranged,” Obi-Wan said as he looked away to stare studiously at the wall, “if that was something you wanted. Romance.” Qui-Gon’s eyebrows shot up.

“That’s--” he said, bewildered. He stopped, his eyebrows now drawing down thoughtfully. “That’s something I think I would be interested in. If you would like. This doesn’t need to mean more than you’d like it to.”

“I’m not the one who was essentially coerced into having sex,” Obi-Wan pointed out. Qui-Gon frowned deeply now, not in the mood for guilt or self-recrimination.

“You said we would handle this however I liked,” he replied stubbornly. “If it is something you’d like, I would enjoy it. If you don’t want a romantic relationship, then there’s no point in trying to force you into one. Speak plainly, Obi-Wan!”

“I love you,” Obi-Wan blurted, and immediately looked like he’d like to take it back. Dawning realization lit Qui-Gon’s face.

“...Sithspit.” Obi-Wan buried his head in his hands and tipped forward to hunch over onto the bed with a muffled, aggravated sigh. “That is not how I planned to say that.” Qui-Gon now looked downright delighted, leaning closer to him on his arms.

“Planned,” he said wonderingly. Obi-Wan stilled, then peered up from under his bangs at him.

“Yes,” he said firmly. Qui-Gon beamed down at him, hair loose, naked and sated, and Obi-Wan had never seen anyone more beautiful than him at that exact moment. “Definitely planned. For a few years now, actually, though I was waiting.”

“Waiting for what?”

“For you to approach me,” he confessed, “I wasn’t sure if you’d ever see me as more than a child, romantically speaking. I decided I’d have to let you come to that conclusion on your own, rather than possibly drive you away.”

“That does make sense,” Qui-Gon admitted. If this had happened soon after Obi-Wan’s Knighting, he would have been concerned about Obi-Wan’s ability to foster his independence from him. Before that would have been an automatic no, considering the inherent power imbalance in the Master and Padawan relationship. And in all honesty, even after he’d been the age of consent, it had been several years before he’d come to trust Obi-Wan as a grown man rather than a teen.

“That being said...I’d love to love you,” Obi-Wan finished. “I’ve wanted to for a long time, and I’d be honored if you’d give me the chance.” 

“That’s supposed to be the older man’s line,” Qui-Gon noted.

“Or the richer man,” Obi-Wan replied, “but neither of us is old nor rich. Maybe I should go find a gambling establishment and utilize my extensive training.”

“One time,” Qui-Gon muttered, “It was once, and we would not have been able to afford transportation back to the Temple if I hadn’t.” Obi-Wan never let him live down that mission to Donhu, when Qui-Gon had decided to chase after a slave ship against Council orders. They'd been successful but had used their mission credit allotment for a bribe at the local space port, and been unable to request more without incriminating themselves to the Council. Qui-Gon had shrugged and led Obi-Wan off to the nearest casino to earn their way home.

“They had to ask you to leave,” Obi-Wan said, grinning. Qui-Gon dropped onto his side back onto the bed, scoffing and rubbing his face against the sheets as the itch under his skin began to wind up again. Obi-Wan started to lay down with him before grimacing. “I’d better go, ah...clean up. Real fast. Don’t go anywhere,” he instructed, leveling a finger at Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes and leveled his finger back in response.

“You could not pay me to go down there right now,” he said, deadly serious, and Obi-Wan’s mouth quirked as he tried not to smile. He retreated to the ‘fresher and Qui-Gon listened to soft grumbling and the tap running, then an aggravated groan floated out.

“I’ve got you all over my shorts,” Obi-Wan accused, slinking out of the ‘fresher with a towel around his waist to toss the offending articles and a few other bits of laundry into the provided machine. Qui-Gon tried to look repentant but feared it came out smug instead.

“Better even us up, then,” he suggested lightly, and Obi-Wan tripped over literally nothing. Interesting. That hadn’t happened since he was a teen and his brain was telling him his legs were shorter than they actually were. Obi-Wan also dropped his towel by accident, and Qui-Gon noted with significant interest that his ass was spectacular. It’d be perfect if it was just closer; he craved.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon groaned, and twisted to push his back into the bed. Now that he’d given up trying to contain himself, he couldn’t get enough sensation; the feel of his shoulder blades against the sheets was lovely, as was the stretch of his stress-tense muscles and the slithering, cool feel of his hair sliding off his shoulder to fall on the bed. He arched his back to stretch and then found himself enamored with the feel of his ass against the solidity of the mattress. He did it again and felt his breath catch as his cock perked up.

Obi-Wan stood still, entranced as a lothcat sighting a bird. The play of muscle under Qui-Gon’s skin was exquisite, and he was particularly fascinated with a scar along his biceps that moved as the muscle stretched and bunched. 

“You are so incredibly handsome,” he said softly, awed. The ache in his voice made Qui-Gon's chest feel tight.

“Come to bed, Obi-Wan,” he said, and watched him stride over. Obi-Wan’s cock had begun to fill again, and Qui-Gon realized, chagrined, that Obi-Wan had been left wanting before. His partner sat on the bed beside him, still admiring Qui-Gon’s body, and then reached over to take up his hand and bring it to his lips.

“So handsome, Qui-Gon,” he repeated. “Strong. Passionate. Focused. Intelligent.” Qui-Gon felt a flush spread across his face and then down to his chest; it had been a long time since he’d had a lover and longer still since he’d had one who was so openly complimentary with him. Obi-Wan leaned down over Qui-Gon to press a kiss into his adam’s apple, soft and sweet. Another followed on his pectoral, then one brushed along his temple. 

“Let me take you apart this time?” he pleaded and Qui-Gon whined low in his throat. 

“If that’s what you’re doing now, then please,” he said huskily, and Obi-Wan grinned slow and wide, realizing his advantage.

“Let me suck you?” he asked seductively, and Qui-Gon pushed his hips up against nothing with a noise of complaint.

“Yes, please,” he repeated fervently. Obi-Wan licked along his collarbone, wet heat sliding along skin beautifully. He bit skin on his way down to Qui-Gon’s nipples, and when he spoke again, his voice was lower than Qui-Gon had ever heard it and sent shivers down Qui-Gon’s spine.

“Let me fuck you?” he asked in a growl.

“You can do anything you want, Force take it, as long as you just do it!” Qui-Gon finally snapped, and Obi-Wan laughed as Qui-Gon forcibly removed him and then lunged for his duffel next to their bed. He kept a very basic balm, little more than nut oil and wax, that would be acceptable for this if a little on the dry side. He found it at the exact bottom of the bag under literally everything else he’d brought, and threw it at Obi-Wan’s head. Obi-Wan caught it with preternatural precision in what was surely a rarely-seen application of Force reflexes and Qui-Gon rolled back under him with a triumphant “ha!”

“Get moving,” he commanded, and smacked Obi-Wan’s flank for emphasis. Obi-Wan barked another laugh and appeased his beloved by leaning forward to kiss him deeply and thoroughly, as they hadn’t yet had a chance to do. Obi-Wan moaned into it as Qui-Gon brought his hand up to the back of his neck and the other down to grasp at that truly excellent ass--he nipped and sucked at Obi-Wan's bottom lip, then swept his tongue across Obi-Wan’s, relishing the sensation.

His lover meanwhile ran one hand along his chest, seeming intrigued by the copious hair covering it and tugging it gently before tweaking a nipple. Qui-Gon heaved a breath in and broke their kiss to groan louder and clutch at Obi-Wan’s head reflexively. Obi-Wan took that as direction and latched onto the nipple with his mouth to Qui-Gon’s intense and obvious approval. The amount of noise he was making was stunning, he thought distantly.

“I’m--I’m never this loud,” he managed between jolts of pleasure. Obi-Wan laughed breathily, leaning back a little.

“It’s fine,” he said, and his hand left Qui-Gon’s side. “Nobody here cares, and it’s fine if you’re quiet too. Easier at the Temple,” he added. Qui-Gon laughed, missing the sound of the bottle of balm snapping open, and then jumped as cold balm-covered fingers pressed against his hole.

“Still OK?” Obi-Wan asked, leaning down to kiss him again and then move to the other nipple. 

“Yes. Yes,” Qui-Gon reassured. He stroked Obi-Wan’s back, feeling the muscle under smooth skin, and concentrated on relaxing seldom-stretched muscles. Obi-Wan hummed in pleasure, eyelids falling shut as he massaged Qui-Gon’s rim and gently dipped a finger into him with each pass. Qui-Gon groaned heartily, very pleased, and let his legs fall lax apart and his head fall to the mattress. 

He jerked it back up again and struggled up to his elbows when he felt Obi-Wan press a finger into him and suck his dick into his mouth at the same time--he needed to see what Obi-Wan looked like, hand busy and mouth stretched wide. Obi-Wan had scooted down further as he licked and sucked and pushed his mouth down over Qui-Gon's cock. Qui-Gon reached down to pet Obi-Wan’s hair gently and he saw the younger man shiver at his touch. Curious, he carefully gripped a fistful of his hair and tugged him slightly down on his cock, and Obi-Wan whined and flexed his back to push against the sheets before introducing a second finger to Qui-Gon’s ass. 

“Oh,” Qui-Gon said in surprise, imagining the ways that could be exploited, “We’ll have to explore that further.” Obi-Wan pulled off his cock with a pop of lost suction, reaching for the balm again.

“Not this time,” he said hoarsely. “You said I could be inside you. No reneging on verbal contracts.” Qui-Gon snorted, tightening his fist briefly before letting go. “Now lie back down already; you’re making this difficult.” 

“Bossy,” Qui-Gon remarked fondly, lying back carelessly despite how his thighs twitched. He ached for a mouth or hand to be on him again. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow at him.

“Not bossy; efficient,” he said primly, and there was a third finger in Qui-Gon’s ass all of a sudden. He tried to push into it, to get Obi-Wan deeper inside him, and didn’t quite succeed. He did manage to make Obi-Wan hit his prostate, however, and while not technically what he’d been going for he was more than happy to accept that result.

“Ah, Force. Again!” he panted, rolling his hips. Obi-Wan was staring down at him with dark, hooded eyes, and moved his hand appropriately to oblige. He watched in fascination as Qui-Gon shuddered and lost coordination for a moment before pulling himself back. 

“Just fantastic,” Obi-Wan breathed, doing it again, and Qui-Gon’s scoff of disbelief died in his throat to be reborn as a cry of pleasure. “More?”

“Yes more, are you joking--” Qui-Gon snapped, but then understood what Obi-Wan had been asking; Obi-Wan added another dollop of balm to his hand and eased a fourth finger in. Qui-Gon sucked in deep breaths, waiting out the most intense part of the stretch, and then cried out when Obi-Wan slowly pushed in just far enough to stroke his prostate again.

It was more than enough, almost too much, and Qui-Gon’s orgasm ignited like flashfire rushing through his veins. He shouted, semen shooting up against his chest as he curled forward once again and the large muscle groups of his body tensed almost painfully before easing off and then going limp. He saw white, and knew nothing for a moment until he heard someone say “oh, gods,” and realized it was himself repeating it in a dazed voice.

Obi-Wan had kept his fingers in place, mercifully giving him something to clench around, and used his free hand now to stroke Qui-Gon’s face and neck as he carefully withdrew. Once that was done he leaned down against Qui-Gon's chest to gently nuzzle and press kisses to his skin while he waited.

Qui-Gon floated free on endorphins on the bed for a while, thinking distantly that he might be channeling the convention attendees somehow since this was rather a different post-coital experience than he was used to. He felt loose-limbed and heavy, and needful still; his cock had wilted some, but still felt drunk on the miasma from hundreds of people high on lust and pain only a few floors down. The feeling had his head lolling down to gaze blearily at Obi-Wan.

“Still wanna fuck me?” he slurred, prodding Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Obi-Wan lifted his head to look at him incredulously and then dropped back against his chest with a snort. Qui-Gon prodded him harder, and smacked his hand against him loosely when that didn’t succeed.

“Please?” he wheedled. He pressed his face into Obi-Wan’s hair, nuzzling with a happy hum and running his hands down Obi-Wan’s back to grasp his ass and pull him into the cradle of his hips. 

“I’ll have what he’s having,” Obi-Wan muttered under his breath, but sighed and leaned up to lick at Qui-Gon’s nipple again. Qui-Gon felt a quick flicker of worry that maybe Obi-Wan didn’t want this, but then Obi-Wan started grinding his dick into the mattress as he worried his nipple, and he just felt smug instead. He cradled the back of Obi-Wan’s head with another happy sigh, then felt Obi-Wan’s tongue touch his skin and peered down. Obi-Wan was licking Qui-Gon’s semen off his chest where it had smeared, forgotten, and Obi-Wan groaned.

Qui-Gon shuddered and felt the empty ache inside of him echo with that groan. In a fit of inspiration, he pulled his legs up around Obi-Wan’s hips with his hands invitingly under his knees. He licked his lips, watching Obi-Wan’s eyes flick between his ass and his face, and leaned up to rumble into his ear, “Please.”

“Oh Force,” Obi-Wan said, wild-eyed, and then he was fumbling to grab the balm and lube himself. He smeared the head of his cock across Qui-Gon’s hole to spread the lube there and watched, barely breathing, as the muscle twitched and relaxed. When he couldn’t stand it a moment longer he spread his knees a little further, lined up his cock properly, and pushed in.

Qui-Gon keened, a sound Obi-Wan had never heard the like of from him despite years of partnership. It was awe inspiring, and Obi-Wan’s cock throbbed where it was finally (finally!) sheathed in the man he loved. Obi-Wan had to lock the muscles of his thighs tight, diverting blood flow from his cock in order to hold off his orgasm. Qui-Gon had had three orgasms this evening to Obi-Wan’s one, but he was also still deep under the influence of the Living Force around them, and Obi-Wan didn’t want to be done until he was sure Qui-Gon was.

Thankfully, despite his enthusiasm, signs pointed towards things winding down soon; it was now third hour, and even as he grew louder Obi-Wan noted that Qui-Gon’s muscles were trembling and that his cock was slower to fill then it had been the first two times. And if Obi-Wan didn’t either get off or leave the room to calm down, he was almost certain his own dick was going to go on strike and walk off the job; worst case scenario, he decided, he could use his mouth or hands or offer to let Qui-Gon have him. 

That thought didn’t particularly help his endurance issue, but there wasn’t much that could have by that point, short of Yoda himself busting the door down to lecture them; he was with the man he loved, had loved for years, who was currently wild beneath him and pinned on his cock. Obi-Wan breathed out harshly, pulling out and pushing back in again slowly but deeply, and listened to Qui-Gon’s bitten-off cry with a sense of wild satisfaction.

“I love you,” Obi-Wan said roughly, pumping slowly into Qui-Gon and relishing the feel of his love’s nails biting into his shoulders. “Oh, Force, Qui-Gon, I love you! Ah…” 

Qui-Gon’s heels came up to rest against the small of Obi-Wan’s back, long legs folded elegantly and his hands on Obi-Wan’s shoulders for leverage. Obi-Wan could feel him trying to get him to move faster and had just enough breath to laugh, then leaned down to kiss him deeply as he moved inside him. 

“Faster,” Qui-Gon grunted, but Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he could go faster without orgasming immediately, so he ignored him. Qui-Gon clenched the muscles of his ass on his cock mercilessly next, and Obi-Wan’s hips jerked forward, but he resumed his pace again, obstinate. He thought he’d won, but Qui-Gon was nothing if not stubborn and started clenching down at intervals, until Obi-Wan lost his patience. Pulling out completely amid Qui-Gon’s protests he pulled his knees together, hauled Qui-Gon’s legs up against his own smaller chest, and slammed back into him.

“Oh Force, oh fuck, Obi-Wan YES, fuck yes that’s it, lay into me, oh love!” Qui-Gon was babbling and crying out with each thrust, his hands flying up to pull hard and quick at his cock as Obi-Wan fucked him. Long moments existed where Obi-Wan knew nothing except the impossible heat of Qui-Gon’s ass taking him in, the desperation in Qui-Gon’s voice, the taste of Qui-Gon’s semen on his breath and the slapping of their skin against each other, until finally he could hold himself away from orgasm no longer. He came hard, harder than he had in years, arms wrapped around Qui-Gon’s thighs and his head pressed into the back of Qui-Gon’s knees as he felt his cock pulsing and pushing his semen into Qui-Gon’s ass.

“Fuck,” Qui-Gon ground out, long and low, and Obi-Wan felt him clench again in rhythm as he came, too. He peered down to watch and if he hadn’t just come, he would have right then and there; Qui-Gon was flushed red and sweaty, hair splayed out everywhere and his hand drawing the last of his release out of his cock. The angle Obi-Wan had him at meant he’d managed to shoot onto his chin, and Obi-Wan wanted to lick it off his beard so badly he would have traded his lightsaber for the opportunity.

Once his brain caught up with that feeling he dropped Qui-Gon’s legs to lunge forward desperately and do just that, no payment necessary and permission already given. Helplessly he wanted more, but knew his partner was really, honestly done: there was only so much a man could do in a night after years of celibacy without incurring personal injury. Obi-Wan knew he hadn’t been gentle that last round, but still--

“How is it possible to want someone so much?” he asked, dismayed. Qui-Gon pulled himself together enough to reach out and stroke Obi-Wan’s face, then pull him into a gentler kiss before tucking him down against his chest.

“It’s all right,” he soothed, voice rough from his cries and exhaustion. “I’m not leaving. There’s time.” It was the right thing to say, apparently--Obi-Wan felt himself relax and pillowed his cheek against Qui-Gon’s chest. Perhaps it was insecurity that had him on edge. Force knew it wouldn’t have been the first time that emotion had reared its ugly head between them.

“I will hold you to that,” he replied, muffled against Qui-Gon’s chest. “Verbal contract.” Qui-Gon chuckled then shivered, and Obi-Wan kicked the blanket within reaching distance with his heel and covered them. They both paused, looking inward to set internal clocks to wake them before it was time to go to the negotiation table. They had had a long night, but they’d accomplished more difficult tasks in worse condition than this, and refused to let their new relationship interfere with duty. It was not a conversation they needed to have, even--Qui-Gon knew, and Obi-Wan knew, and they were content in their mutual understanding.

“Think I can sleep, now,” Qui-Gon said with a jaw-cracking yawn that he attempted to cover with his hand. Obi-Wan hummed, content in the feel of his skin against Qui-Gon’s, and they drifted off before either of them could say anything else.

 

 

The negotiations were postponed by a day. The message was waiting when the two Jedi woke, on time but stuck together rather intimately. Qui-Gon had moved to the ‘fresher to get cleaned up, as his hair needed the extra time to maintain, and Obi-Wan noticed the “message waiting” indicator light was on.

The negotiating parties lacked Qui-Gon’s attunement to the Living Force, obviously, but did not lack ears. The revelers downstairs had kept many of them up for at least as long as the Jedi had been, and it was agreed that the day would be spent reviewing pertinent documents and resting. 

This was especially helpful for Qui-Gon, who had in one night had more sex than he’d had in the past five years at least, and who was now paying for that lack (or the night’s surfeit) accordingly. Bluntly put: his dick ached.

“Poor man,” Obi-Wan murmured, watching Qui-Gon try and get comfortable on the sofa again. Obi-Wan had offered to wrap his member in some bacta-coated gauze but Qui-Gon’s pride was a bit stung. He refused to allow it, and was instead attempting to find some way--any way--which he could sit comfortably tomorrow for their mission. 

“Perhaps you could stand,” Obi-Wan offered, and succeeded at keeping his amusement off of his face. Qui-Gon threw him a disgruntled look, then ignored him in favor of the ‘pad he was studying. 

The older Jedi endured another two hours of what must have been intense discomfort before throwing the ‘pad onto the couch in a fit of pique and telling Obi-Wan “fine, Force dammit, we’ll try the gauze.” Obi-Wan had very studiously not laughed the entire time they wrapped his dick. Gently. Lovingly. Obi-Wan eyed it and his hand slowed before he sneaked a glance up at Qui-Gon from under his bangs, gauging his mood.

“That’s not going to happen for a while,” Qui-Gon said flatly. Obi-Wan harrumphed and continued what he was doing. “I’m an old man, Obi-Wan. I’m used to sprints, not marathons.” 

Obi-Wan considered that statement as he tied off the end of the gauze in a neat bow.

“Well then,” he replied cheekily. “You just need training. I can be your coach.” Qui-Gon’s slight flush and startled laughter were distinctly not ‘no,’ Obi-Wan noted happily, as he watched the man he loved shaking with mirth.

-fin-


End file.
